Tory made no answer save to attempt to lift the cover from the piano, so that Lance was compelled to come to her assistance.
“Sit down, Lance,” she ordered quietly, attempting to place the stool in position. “I am glad to say the old piano was tuned only a few days ago, although no one here uses it. You know you want to play what you have written for Kara, so why pretend otherwise?”
Tory’s manner left no chance for argument, so Lance, with a whimsical smile of agreement, meekly obeyed.
He sat under a light from a reading lamp, the two girls standing beside Kara’s chair.
“My musical composition has the advantage of not being long and is merely an attempt to express our sorrow over Kara’s departure, our faith in her good courage and our splendid hope for her return. Yes, and perhaps a little of my envy that she goes to the city of my dreams. Perhaps after all I shall meet her there.”
Lance’s words trailed away into silence as his slender fingers touched the keys in a simple melody of farewell.